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The Good the Bad and the Ugly of Working Out After Baby

by Word of Mom Blogger on January 29, 2015

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Katy is a new mommy and the writer behind Fit In Heels, a health and fitness blog showcasing clean eats, at-home workouts, and sarcastic ramblings. She does not forget the pain of labor.

So, you did it! Forty weeks of pregnancy. You fought through morning sickness, back pain, sleepless nights, adult acne, varicose veins, and the loss of bladder control. You survived labor (barely). And bonus: Your child isn't an alien! Good for you, Mom. You're officially a #%@$ing hero. Things are all back to normal now, right?

I automatically assumed that I would be back to my pre-pregnancy size after having my son and leaving the hospital. I mean, I had the kid already! I was done. Well, no... I was delusional. In fact, I was so delusional that when I was pregnant, I thought my thighs looked skinny in comparison to my giant midsection. Every inch of back fat had been pulled forward to my belly, leaving me with a streamlined look from behind without the use of Spanx. My breasts were huge. I had never looked better.

Little did I know that Mother Nature was patiently waiting to F with me as gravity hit and the kid came out of my hoo-ha. I was left with jiggly arms, back rolls, and a stomach resembling a road map tucked into a black hole. A giant, black hole.

That was a tough pill to swallow. I worked out for my entire pregnancy. And might I add, I felt like one bad-ass mofo. I assumed getting my body back would be a piece of cake! Six weeks of enjoying take out, holiday parties, and way too much of my mom's baking, and it was time to get back into the gym. I was really excited to work out and get my six-pack abs mediocre stomach region back.

Anyways, I learned a LOT about my body and exercise after having my son. I felt very unprepared for some things and simply feel that it is my duty to share some of things you might not know about exercising post-baby. In advance, you're welcome.

1. Don't look in the mirror.

Thankfully, my first run post-baby happened where there were no mirrors. I ran two miles. It took me 30 minutes. I wanted to die. I felt as if I'd run four marathons, in the middle of the Sahara Desert, uphill, with no water. And then was bitch-slapped.

2. Wear black.

I will repeat myself: wear black. And I don't mean for its slimming benefits. Wear it because it won't show when your boobs leak or when you pee yourself.

3. Yes, that's you that stinks.

Certain exercises will force you to catch a whiff of the woman beside you, and what you think is a combination of poo, body odor, and dead bodies. News flash: It's you. And it's down there. My husband so nicely coined the term for this disgustingness as "Vag-O." Don't worry, I sucker punched him for all womankind.

4. Wear a good bra... or three.

Strap those triple G jugs down like you were in a straight jacket. Use duct tape if needed. I didn't the first time, and can only assume that's what it feels like to get kicked in the nuts.

5. Bring a towel.

I was certain my first few workouts must have taken place in a sauna by the amount of sweat that came off of my Vag-O-smelling jiggly bod. What's that now? You understand because you practice hot yoga? Pfffft. I had a kid and then looked at a dumbbell. Same diff.

6. You'll consider organ donation.

I say this because you will check multiple times to see if your uterus has fallen on the floor.

7. For once, you wish your baby would cry.

Because then, you'd get a break. I may have pinched my son a few times. Stop judging me.

8. You = human salt lick.

Your baby will suck on your shoulder, nose, finger, extra love handle... anything to get a taste of that delicious sweat. Yum.

9. You want a good joint.

In fact, you want a few. Maybe a good knee joint, ankle joint, hip joint... the point is, your joints hurt. Frig.

10. You are a role model. You are a role model. You keep telling yourself you are a role model.

This is the best part of exercising postpartum. Your son or daughter will smile, coo, and laugh at with you with such excitement, joy, and happiness, that you tell yourself it's worth it to continue. And it is. It will get easier. You will get better. And you will almost, almost stop blaming them for being the reason you jiggle in places you didn't even know existed.

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